


Enslaved by the Moon

by Adihsar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Arranged Marriage, Dark Magic/Spellcasting, DysFUNctional families, F/M, Feminist Themes, Mind Control, Multi, Murder, Mysterious illness, Parental Death, Werewolves-alternate canon, fairytale AU, parental neglect, themes of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adihsar/pseuds/Adihsar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Stiles always thought that princesses were the ones who were supposed to have the wicked step-mothers.  Boy was he wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Or A.K.A.:</p><p> </p><p>The one where Stiles' father, the King, takes Kate Argent as his second wife and then everything goes to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enslaved by the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moirariordan (jaegermighty)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/gifts).



> To: Moirariordan. I decided to go the mythological/literature route instead. The mythology angle ended up being changed as Stiles was supposed to be Icarus, Lydia the Sun and Derek the Minotaur, but I ended up scrapping that entirely. I decided to go the literature angle and write you a fairytale of sorts. I sincerely hope you like it.
> 
> Three other things to know: 1) Gerard is not Kate and Chris' father in this story, although he still plays an ass. 2) There isn't that much of Derek in here, even though he does have a major role to play in the end. And the Derek/Stiles/Lydia pairing is more of a prequel and not fleshed out here. And 3) I know I left it OPEN ENDED, so if people actually like this, I'd be happy to write a sequel. I have so many ideas for this 'verse and I'm just getting started people. :) 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, feel free to point them out so that I can correct them. Thanks.

Stiles was going to die at the tender age of eighteen. Possibly.

The sword came whistling through the air inches from Stiles’ face. He dodged at the last second, somersaulted twice, and whirled around to face the threat. Sharp steel came at him again and this time he was ready. A furious battle waged on, Stiles jumping around his opponent, nimble and quick. Just when he was about to have the tables turned on him once more, he decided to cheat.

“Hi, Allison!” He called, glancing behind his attacker. His ploy worked and Scott, his best friend since childhood, whipped around with a goofy smile on his face. By the time his gullible friend realized no Allison was present, it was too late. Stiles had disarmed him, and the tip of his own sword was pressed lightly against Scott’s throat. 

“I win.” Stiles chortled merrily. “You almost had me for a second there, Scotty, I must admit.”

Scott glared at him and then ruined the effect by breaking out into a huge grin. “But I _am_ getting better, right? I used to be horrible.”

“And you still are. You’re just…less horrible.” At Scott’s sound of protest, he relented. “You know I’m kidding. You’ve come a long way since I first started training you. Now, if we can just keep your mind off of Allison during a potential battle, you’ll do great.”

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but then glanced at something behind him in the stables. “I think we’ve got a spy in our midst.” A soft smile played around his mouth.

Stiles stilled and then looked in the direction Scott was motioning. A small, sandy-haired boy was lurking behind the nearest of the horses, wide blue eyes studying them both solemnly. Stiles sighed and gestured towards the child. “What are you doing out of the palace, Isaac? Did you walk here by yourself?”

Isaac crept slowly out of the shadows and hugged Stiles; smiling shyly at Scott. “I wanted to go with you.” He muttered in a small voice, his face pressed into Stiles’ side. “It’s boring at home.”

Stiles crouched down and took Isaac’s face in his hands. “Yes, but you know that it’s dangerous to venture outside right now. Especially for six year olds. Your mom is going to be very angry that you left.”

“You and Scott are outside.” Isaac said stubbornly, the beginnings of a pout forming on his lips. “And she’s your mom too.”

Stiles almost snapped, “No, she’s not.” but caught himself in time. A pinched look formed on his handsome face and he forced a smile. “Yes, she’s my mom too.” He stood up and grabbed a hold of Isaac’s hand. “Let’s get back before she notices we’re missing.”

“Too late.” Scott replied helpfully and pointed to the guards on horseback rapidly approaching the stables. Stiles groaned.

“Great. This is the last thing I need right now. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Can you teach me swords too, Stiles?” Isaac, blissfully ignorant, looked so sweet and adorable that he hated to deny him, but they had more important things to deal with at the moment.

“Not, now, buddy. Later, I promise.” 

The three of them walked out to meet the guards and Stiles felt Isaac stiffen next to him. The burly young guard in front dismounted from a midnight stallion, menace radiating from his every pore. The other two guards behind him remained seated on their mounts, silently watching the proceedings. The head guard sauntered up to Stiles and rest his hand lightly upon the hilt of his sword. Stiles raised an eyebrow and felt Isaac cling tighter to his body, as if the child was trying to climb inside of him.

“Kind of far out from the palace today, my Lord. You know the dangers out here.”

Stiles bristled. “How kind of you to notice, Gerard. We weren’t doing anything wrong as we’re still on my _father’s_ land.”

Gerard grinned maliciously. “Her Majesty, the Queen, is angry that you took the young Sire out here with you.” At his words, Isaac practically crawled up Stiles’ body until he was forced to hold the child or drop him. Stiles was furious. It was one thing to intimidate him, but his baby brother was off limits.

“We didn’t _take_ Isaac anywhere. He followed us because he’s curious. He’s a little boy; he needs to be constantly supervised. Perhaps my stepmother will watch him better in the future.”

He glared at Gerard and the guard tightened his grip on his sword. “Your mouth will get you into trouble one of these days, my Lord. And I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“And someone should remind you of your place.” Stiles snarled. “Perhaps my _mouth_ and I will have a long talk with my father about your insubordination.” Stiles hated to pull the rank card in general, but he usually was treated with respect in the kingdom and didn’t have to.

Gerard was one of the few exceptions. For some reason, the guard had instantly disliked Stiles since the day he arrived with Queen Kate. Stiles could say the feeling was definitely mutual. 

Gerard, completely unfazed, strode back to his horse and swung up into the saddle. “Her Majesty requests your presence back at the palace immediately. Meanwhile, I‘ll take the Prince with me.” He motioned for Stiles to hand him Isaac and the child refused to release his iron grip from his brother’s neck. Stiles shook his head.

“That’s okay, we’re leaving now. He’ll ride back with us. Thank, you, Gerard. You’re dismissed.”

The glower on Gerard’s face showed exactly what he thought about Stiles dismissing him. He and the other guards headed back to the palace at a fast gallop and Stiles could feel all of them breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“He’s creepy.” Scott muttered. “I wish your dad could get rid of him.”

“He’s our mom’s personal guard.” Isaac said, finally loosening his hold on Stiles’ neck. “Daddy won’t get rid of him because it makes her happy.” 

Stiles winced again as they all got on his horse, Windmere, to head the short distance back to the palace. Sometimes he wanted to correct his brother, but he knew Isaac was too little to really understand. Stiles simply adored Isaac. His adorable little brother was the only good thing that had come out of the union between his father and Queen Kathryn. There was no nice way to tell Isaac just how much he absolutely _loathed_ his mother. That Stiles would never accept her as his own. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he just knew that he didn’t trust her. 

And the only reason she was still alive was because his father loved her so.

~.~.~.~

Stiles’ mother, Queen Annabelle, died when Stiles was nine and the hole she left almost crippled him and his father. King Mark of Beaconia had once been a fair, just and able ruler, but the loss of his beloved wife sent him into a severe bout of depression that lasted for months. Stiles ended up being raised primarily by his mother’s faithful handmaiden, Melissa McCall, who also happened to be an exceptional medicine woman. Her son, Scott, also eighteen, had been Stiles’ best friend since practically birth and their bond was strong and true. Scott and his mother lived in the servants quarters of the palace, and Scott worked down at the stables because he loved animals. Stiles would have lost his mind if he didn’t have both of them in his life. 

Eventually, King Mark drew out of his debilitating depression and started being a ruler--and most importantly--a father again. Stiles was overjoyed. He thought he had lost both of his parents the day his mom died, and he feared he would never see the kind hearted man his father was ever again. A year passed and King Mark seemed content by himself, but soon Stiles saw that his father was lonely. His father needed companionship, and the kingdom needed a new queen, but Mark felt like if he sought another wife, that it would be the utmost betrayal to Annabelle.

Six months later, the Grand Royal Christmas Festivities took place. This was a most joyous event where all royalty and their guests were invited to attend. Each year, a different royal family hosted the event at their home. This year was the Stilinski Family’s turn and the entire kingdom had been preparing for months to get ready. Stiles couldn't believe the amount of people that were milling in and outside the palace. All in all, the event was a success. Royalty from all over the countryside was in attendance, all wearing their finest garments. Fine wine and ale was poured and an elaborate feast was laid out in the main hall for everyone to enjoy. There was tender roast beef and ham. Fresh seasoned poultry and seafood. Succulent lamb and venison. There were also a variety of cheeses and fruits, many different vegetables and such an impressive display of desserts that Scott and Stiles were practically salivating. Lights twinkled, the air was rich with joy and harmony, and Stiles thought the night couldn’t get any more perfect. And then, in the middle of Scott showing him a trick with his spoon, the unthinkable happened: 

King Christopher and Queen Victoria, of the Royal Argents of the Silver Mountains, entered the main hall with their family, and Stiles' life was forever changed. King Mark was immediately smitten with Christopher's younger sister, a lovely young woman by the name of Kathryn Argent. Princess Kathryn--more commonly known as Kate--was stunning and intelligent, with a quick wit and silver tongue. When his father introduced her, Stiles tried to like her, he really did, but there was something cold about her beauty. Something artificial that turned him off. His father was a goner, though, and Stiles tried to be happy for him even though his insides felt uneasy. He tried to voice his concerns to Scott, but King Christopher's daughter, Princess Allison, had caught his eye. Allison was already stunning in all her twelve year old glory and Scott increasingly became more and more of a fool as the night went on.

"I think she's the most beautiful girl in the world!" Scott exclaimed in a whisper as he tried to catch Allison's eye. The pretty brunette kept sending shy smiles over towards his friend, though, so she must have been somewhat charmed. "And she's a whole year older than us."

For some reason, Stiles felt annoyed. Here he was having a family crisis and he couldn’t even get his best friend to pay attention long enough to talk about it. Before he could stop himself, he snapped, “You know, I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about this girl, Scott. She’s a princess and you’re just a stable boy. You’re not royalty and she’ll never date you. Get over it.” The look on Scott’s face was just enough hurt puppy mixed with real anger that Stiles should have stayed and apologized. But he was eleven years old with a father and best friend who betrayed him (at least in his eyes) and he was not feeling very sorry at the moment. He pushed roughly past Scott and stormed across the vast dance floor, intent on hiding out in his room for the rest of the evening. As he barreled past the elaborately dressed guests, he bumped into a beautiful girl about his age with long, strawberry blonde hair twisted into an intricate knot.

“Watch where you’re going, you twit!” The girl said angrily. 

“Lydia!” Her mother looked scandalized. “That’s no way to talk to Prince Stiles. Apologize at once.”

Lydia, looking very put out, turned to give a half hearted apology, but Stiles was already gone. He spent the rest of the night brooding in his room and listening to the festivities continuing on below without him. Someone knocked on his door an hour later, but Stiles just lay on his bed staring at the ceiling.

Three days later his father proposed to Kate and Scott found Stiles sitting by himself, skipping stones down by the lake near his mother‘s grave. Seeming to understand why Stiles had gone off the night of the party, Scott just sat down next to him and started skipping stones too. At one point, Stiles handed Scott a really flat, smooth stone--perfect for skipping--and Scott knew that was Stiles’ way of saying he was sorry. Scott handed it back to him and smiled, and Stiles knew he was forgiven.

Neither of them mentioned the tears running silently down Stiles’ face.

~.~.~.~

When the three boys made it back to the palace, Queen Kate was waiting by the entrance dressed in a striking blue gown. A slight scowl marred her pretty features when she laid eyes on Scott. Stiles knew she didn’t care for Melissa and Scott, and even though his friend had moved into a small cottage an hour’s journey away with Allison, his mother still resided on King Mark’s land. To the Queen’s utmost displeasure. Stiles had to hand it to his father. Even though he loved Kate with his entire being, he still was no lightweight when it came to bending to her every whim and desire. 

So, Melissa stayed. For now. Stiles knew the battle would be revisited again at some later date. Kate was like a viper. She knew when to lay low and when to strike when a person least expected it. He couldn’t understand how his father was blind to it all. The one time he had brought it up with his dad, it hadn’t ended well, and the fight that had followed was the angriest he had ever seen his father. Stiles knew not to broach the subject again.

“Stiles, I’m very disappointed in you. You know that it’s dangerous to be outside right now, what with all the murd-.” She trailed off abruptly noticing Isaac’s bright blue gaze fixed on her intently. “What with all the unpleasant things that keep happening around the countryside. I expect you to stay inside and not worry me or your father. And certainly not encourage Isaac to go traipsing around outside after you. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Stiles muttered.

“Mommy, Stiles and Scott were playing swords! Stiles promised to teach me.” Isaac looked at his mother pleadingly, actually thinking he was helping the situation. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Stiles and Scott exchanged a stricken look and groaned.

The Queen’s expression darkened. “You were using _swords_ near Isaac? Are you out of your minds?” Isaac, realizing his mother was only getting angrier, clutched at her skirts trying to get her attention. She swatted lightly at his hands and said, “Go to your room, Isaac. I’ll talk to you later.”

Stiles watched his little brother look at him sorrowfully before heading upstairs. He knew the kid meant well, but he had the worst timing. “Look, we weren’t using swords near him on purpose. We didn’t know he was hiding in the stables! It was an honest mistake and it won’t happen again.”

“You’re absolutely right it won’t happen again, because you, sir, are grounded.” 

Stiles gaped at his stepmother. “Grounded? I’m eighteen years old. You can’t ground me for walking around outside my own home!”

Kate glared at him. “I can and I am. You blatantly walk around here disregarding my rules and infecting Isaac with your insolence. I won’t stand for it. I expect better from you, Stiles, especially with your father not at his best.”

Stiles felt the guilt suddenly overwhelm him. That was the reason he had taken off outdoors in the first place, when Scott had come to visit earlier that day. King Mark, for the last month, was ailing from some mysterious illness and he had yet to show any improvement. Stiles was acting like he wasn’t worried, but he remembered the ordeal with his mother and he was terrified. He knew his father would see the concern on his face and that was the only reason he tried to make himself scarce that day.

“I just wanted some alone time.” He muttered, glancing quickly at Scott. “So Dad wouldn’t see me worrying.”

Kate bristled. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to be alone while you’re grounded. Say goodbye to Scott.”

Both Stiles and Scott looked affronted. “But Scott came all this way just to visit. He was supposed to stay for dinner.”

“And now he’s not.” Kate replied. “Scott, this is a difficult time for us, I’m sure you understand.”

“Sure,” Scott said sarcastically. “I understand.”

“So you’re upset about Isaac and I roaming around outside, but now, close to sundown, you want to send Scott home? Alone? In the dark?”

Kate drew herself up to her full height and glared at the two boys. “That’s not my problem. Be ready for dinner in an hour. Your father feels up to coming down to eat tonight. We both have something important to discuss with you.” With that, she turned and strode away to the drawing room, but stopped short just inside the double oak doors. “Scott? Tell Allison I send my love.”

Scott didn’t reply and she didn’t wait for one. Silence fell over the two young men standing in the entrance hall. Stiles couldn’t even begin to express how embarrassed he was right then. “I’m so sorry you came all this way…I can’t even-”

Scott cut him off. “Not your fault. I’m sort of glad Allison isn’t allowed to come here. Her aunt is one cold bitch.” He looked distressed for a moment. “But she wants to, though. Come visit her, I mean.”

“The family is still shunning, Kate?”

“Yep.”

“Did you ever find out what for?”

Scott shook his head. “I still have no clue. All I know is that it’s been going on for a year now. Whatever it is, it must be big. Not even Allison knows and they aren’t exactly eager to tell her anything since she left her fortune behind to marry me. Things are better with her father than with her mother--but they aren’t great. All Allison knows is that they found out that Kate did something horrible. So horrible that they cut all ties with her. Anyway, they told Allison she was forbidden to come here when I visit and she‘s too scared to go behind their backs. You know how Queen Victoria is. But…she misses Kate. They used to be really close.”

“Huh.” Stiles muttered. He walked Scott to the door and hugged him. Take Windmere back with you. He’s faster than your horse; it’s going to be dark soon and it’ll take you an hour at least to get home. My stepmother is right about one thing. There have been too many mysterious murders out there. The town criers are speculating it’s some kind of beast.”

“Or beasts, plural. I’ve heard it’s werewolves.”

“Werewolves? Those don‘t really exist, surely?” 

Scott shrugged as they headed towards Stiles’ horse. “Well, it’s not like I’ve met one personally…but why not? Remember Prince Elliott last month? He fought a dragon in the mountains.”

Stiles stared at his friend’s nonchalant expression in disbelief. “He fought it and lost, Scott. He‘s _dead_.”

“So? No offense to Elliott, but he had no business trying to kill a dragon when he couldn‘t even cut a piece of string if someone handed him the knife.” Scott settled into Windmere’s saddle and smiled. “And that was so not my point. I’m just saying if there are dragons, and we know there definitely are witches, who’s to say that werewolves don’t exist too? There could be a whole plethora of supernatural creatures out there!” 

Stiles shook his head. “Okay, okay. Maybe you‘re right. Now get out of here before the werewolves get you.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but Scott looked down at him solemnly. “Not funny, man.” And in the next second he was off.

Stiles watched his friend until he could see him no more, then sighed and went to get ready for the dinner from hell.

~.~.~.~

The dinner went about as smoothly as Stiles thought it would. Which, as it turned out, was not very smoothly at all. By the second course, Isaac was hiding under his chair and Kate and Stiles were outright shouting at each other across the long, garnished table.

“I won’t!” Stiles snapped, pointing a finger at his stepmother. “I won’t marry her.”

“Don’t you talk to me that way. You have no respect, that’s what your problem has always been.” Kate whirled to Mark and glared at him. “Tell your son he has to respect me!”

Stiles wanted to throttle her. “The hell I will.”

_“ENOUGH!”_

Both of them froze as King Mark stood up from the table and slammed his fist down upon it, rattling all the dishes and cutlery and causing Isaac to whimper down below in fright. Stiles immediately felt guilty as he watched his father’s labored breathing from just that bit of exertion. When Stiles saw that Kate wasn’t moving, he frowned and hurried over to his dad’s trembling form and put an arm around him.

“Dad, I’m sorry. You’re right…I’m being a brat. Here, sit down. You’re shaking.” Stiles got his father seated before speaking again in a much softer voice, “Look, Kate…I don’t want to marry Erica Reyes. I’ve met her before and there’s something off about her.” _Just like you._ He thought silently.

Kate sniffed. “I don’t see why not. She comes from a very respectable family and there is much to be gained by a union between the two of you.”

Stiles gritted his teeth. “No, she comes from a questionable family. And I don’t _like_ her. I got a weird vibe off of her and her entire family when they were at the last Royal Ball. I don’t want to marry her.” He raised his voice in frustration. “In fact, I don’t want to marry anyone. Why is this coming up now?”

“Stiles, you’re a man now. Most eighteen year olds are already settled down and married with families of their own. Scott, himself, has already been married for a year. Did you think you would be single forever?”

“No, of course not, Dad. But I guess I didn’t think I needed to rush into this. I don’t even like anyone enough to marry them.” Kate raised an eyebrow at his choice of wording, but Stiles wasn’t about to clue her in to his preference for both genders. His bisexuality was something that he played very close to the chest as it was not anyone’s business but his. The only people who knew were Scott and his father. Same sex unions were not necessarily forbidden in their world, but they were frowned upon in royal families since they couldn’t produce an heir to the throne. Since Stiles had never really had a serious crush before, it had never been an issue. 

Until now, apparently. 

He glanced down and caught Isaac peeping out from beneath his chair in utter betrayal that his family had scared him. Smiling fondly, he reached down and lifted the boy back into his seat. Continuing to cut his brother’s steak into pieces, he tensed his shoulders. “I just know I don’t want it to be Erica.” As he spoke, he noticed Kate’s frown deepen in barely repressed frustration.

King Mark sighed. “Well, you need to be married, son. Or betrothed at the very least. I’m…not well, Stiles. I want you to be happy and secure in case--in case anything happens to me. And if I die, one day you need to be able to lead our kingdom.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Stiles said fiercely. _“Don’t.”_

His father smiled sadly. “But I have to, son. I know you don’t like Erica, and while she was not my first choice, Kate is right that the union will benefit both families in the long run. Besides, she is the only princess your age available for courting right now.”

Kate gave a small, satisfied smirk and Stiles, despite being a gentleman, wanted to slap her.

Isaac was happily shoveling seasoned potatoes into his mouth during all of this, but he managed to swallow enough to mumble, “Stiles doesn’t have to marry Erica if he doesn’t want to. He can marry Princess Lydia. She’s mean, but she’s pretty. And her family has lots of land and money.”

Stiles remembered the feisty strawberry blonde girl with mild distaste. It wasn’t as if Isaac was wrong. She was mean and pretty, and a tad bit scary. And Stiles was pretty sure she hated him. _Correction:_ He was pretty sure she hated everyone but made an extra special exception for him. But she was much more preferable than Erica and her creepy clan. He looked at his dad hopefully. 

Mark took a hearty sip of his favorite wine and looked thoughtful. “Yes, you’re right, Isaac, I forgot about Lydia. Prince Elliott was courting her but he died last month. I heard his mother is still inconsolable and has fallen ill from the grief.”

Stiles blanched. “Prince Elliott? Surely not the same Elliott who died fighting a dragon to impress a princess?”

“Yes, son. Why?”

“No reason.” Stiles muttered darkly. “Just curious.” 

King Mark signaled to one of the staff to bring him some parchment and a quill. “So, it’s decided that Lydia would also be an acceptable bride.” Kate started to protest and the King held up a hand. “Now, dear. If Stiles is more comfortable with Lydia, then what’s the problem? A union between them would also be mutually beneficial to our families.”

“Of course, dear.” Kate said sweetly, but looked very put out. When she caught Stiles staring at her, she scowled at him and went back to focusing on her dinner. 

“Then it’s settled. I’ll send word to the King and Queen Martin first thing tomorrow morning to set up a visit next week.”

Stiles ruffled Isaac’s curly hair and grinned at him. “I knew I liked you for a reason, little brother. You totally saved me.”

Isaac beamed at him.

“Son, you’re certain?” King Mark gazed at his eldest with a serious expression. “Make sure before I send the invitation.”

Stiles sent a smug glance over at his unusually silent stepmother. He didn’t know why she wanted him to marry Erica Reyes so badly, but he threw a wrench in her plans that she didn’t quite anticipate. Or rather Isaac did. Stiles made a note to himself to do something nice for his brother soon. “Dad, let me put it this way: If you can convince King and Queen Martin to give away their precious only daughter to live in unholy wedded bliss with me? I’ll marry her tomorrow.”

And he meant what he said. If Lydia’s parents found him worthy, he would dedicate himself to Lydia and do everything in his power to make their marriage of convenience work. But he was going to have to put his foot down with her about the whole dragon thing. Stiles was highly skilled at sword fighting, but he also wasn’t the type of guy who liked to show off to gain someone’s favor. If that was Lydia’s thing, then she was going to be sorely disappointed. Stiles would do his best to honor and protect Lydia, but he wasn’t going to risk his life by killing supernatural beasts for her amusement either.

This was not a real marriage, it was a business arrangement--nothing more.

~.~.~.~

As it turned out, there may not even be a wedding in Stiles' future--because he was going to kill Princess Lydia Martin.

It didn't take long for King Alexander and Queen Amelia of the Sun Valley to answer King Mark's invitation to his home. In their response, they said to expect their arrival at the start of the next week. The staff flew into a tizzy trying to get everything ready for their guests, extra special attention was paid to cleaning, preparing and cooking because they knew Prince Stiles was going to start courting the sun goddess princess.

The Royal Martin family were descendants of a long line of sun gods--at least on Lydia's mother's side, and Lydia took after her in every way. Queen Amelia was a Sun Priestess and highly skilled in controlling the sun with her powers. The sun gods and goddesses were generally a peace loving folk (However, they could be formidable enemies when crossed as well), and used their abilities to warm and enrich their lands and people, causing plentiful harvests year round. Beaconia was in dire need of crops such as these, and while the lands were healthy enough, there was still room for much improvement. In turn, King Alexander's people especially were being plagued by the mysterious beasts roaming the lands, because the Sun Valley Kingdom was near the dark, forbidden mountain pass that led through the Forest of Tears. Many of King's people had been killed or simply vanished, never to return. On the other hand, King Mark and his people were highly skilled in the art of protection and battle, and a strong moral code kept them law abiding, true and just. So, the Sun Valley Kingdom needed better protection and Beaconia needed richer crops. It truly seemed to be a match made in heaven.

Or in the fiery, damned pits of hell. Stiles wasn't quite decided yet.

As soon as the Martins arrived on Sunday afternoon, a flurry of activity erupted in the palace. The staff were rushing around making sure everyone was comfortable and that their guests were all settled in their rooms. Afternoon tea was set out in the conservatory and, afterwards, the adults blatantly told Stiles and Lydia to leave--while chaperoned of course--so they could discuss important matters. (Read: Stiles’ impending doom)

So that was how Stiles found himself in the game room with Lydia, struggling not to throttle her senseless. Sun goddess or not, she was going _down_. The young woman in question was one of the most hard to please people Stiles had ever met. As soon as Lydia walked into his home with her endlessly bickering parents, she had managed to complain about and/or insult the decor, the staff, the size of the palace, the clothes Stiles was wearing etc, etc. And the freakish part about it was that she made it all seem like backwards compliments. And Stiles felt as if he should _apologize_ for all these imaginary shortcomings. During all of this, Queen Amelia would frown at her daughter and nudge her into silence with her arm. But the silence never lasted for long. By the time Lydia found fault with the little tea sandwiches the staff had served, Stiles was quietly seething. 

He loved those little sandwiches, damn it.

It was becoming quite clear that despite being a sun goddess, Princess Lydia had a heart of pure ice--and a disposition to match.

He was, however, still a gentleman, and he forced a smile on his face. "Would you like to play a game of chess?" 

Lydia, who had been wandering around the room admiring (more like judging) the decor sent him a disinterested glance. "You can play?" She asked the question with a tone of utter disbelief that made Stiles bristle.

"I wouldn't have asked if I couldn't." Stiles shot back.

Lydia arched an eyebrow at his tone and finally nodded. As Stiles moved to set up the chess board, she cleared her throat loudly. "I'm not going to marry you, you know."

Stiles didn't miss a beat. "And I’m not going to kill myself slaying dragons for you. And I'm pretty sure our parents are really the ones to decide that, aren't they?"

"Well I don't _want_ to marry you."

"Oh, believe me, sweetheart," Stiles drawled, "The feeling is mutual."

Silence for a beat. Then: “For your information, I never asked Elliott to slay a dragon for me. I begged him not to and he did it anyway.”

“Well,” Stiles said, still smarting over her mockery of his home. “If his choices were between marrying you and possible death fighting a dragon, I can see why he chose the latter, may God rest his poor damned soul.” 

The look of indignation on her pretty face was priceless.

~.~.~.~

"Checkmate." Lydia said without much relish, some time later. She sat back in her chair and glared at Stiles across the small furnished oak table.

 _Maybe she can't even find joy in winning something._ Stiles thought. Out loud, he muttered, "Something wrong, Princess?"

Lydia's large hazel eyes bored into his. "You let me win."

Stiles looked shocked. And guilty. "No, I didn't."

"Yes. You did. You had checkmate a couple moves back and you didn't take it. You let me win."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Okay fine. I let you win. But only because--"

She was growing angrier by the second, a red flush spreading across her face and a slight tremble in her lips. "Because I'm a girl right? Just some weak little girl you have to condescend to?"

The look of shock felt like it was permanently etched across his face. "NO! I--I didn't let you win because you're a girl." Her glare intensified and he caved. "Okay, I was trying to be nice and let you win. But not because I think little of you or anything!" He quickly amended. "Because you're my guest."

Lydia stood up shakily. "I am _not_ stupid, okay? I'm _smart_."

Stiles stood up as well, holding his hands up in front of him. "Whoa. No one said you were stupid!"

"I think I'm going to go lie down in my room," Lydia said abruptly. "I don't feel so well."

"By all means then," Stiles said sarcastically. In the next second, she and her handmaiden were gone and Stiles was left sitting there highly conflicted.

~.~.~.~ 

Dinner was an awkward affair. King Alexander and Queen Amelia loved to contradict each other to an almost uncomfortable point, and the air was ripe with tension. If Lydia had to deal with this on a daily basis, Stiles was beginning to see where she got her issues from.

The betrothal was set. Both sets of parents had ironed out all the minor and major details about the pending union and were rather happy with the results. Despite the Martins’ bickering, they tucked into the lavish fifteen course meal without restraint. Too bad their offspring were not as lighthearted.

Lydia picked at her meal listlessly, pointedly ignoring Stiles across the table. That was quite fine with him, although he felt the need to apologize to her--even though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for. He understood that he had somehow offended her by letting her win the game, and he could even understand being slightly upset about it. But Lydia was acting like he had personally tried to murder her entire family and it bothered him.

As the staff brought out the main course, Queen Amelia finally seemed to notice Lydia’s silence. “Lydia, dear, do sit up straight. Ladies do not slouch. And you’ve barely touched your lovely soup!”

“I’m not very hungry, mother.” She shot a glance at Stiles. “I told you earlier I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Well you still need to eat something. It’s rude for our guests to prepare such a wonderful meal and you just sit there picking at your food in distaste.”

Lydia’s jaw clenched. “It’s not in distaste. I’m just not hungry.”

King Alexander sighed. “Amelia, leave the girl alone, already.”

Amelia glared at her husband. “And you stay out of this. You’re always coddling her and allowing her to slide on every little thing. How else will she learn how to be a proper lady?”

The Martins started bickering once more with King Mark trying to calm everyone down. Stiles wanted to stab his eye out with his fork. He caught Isaac watching him and shook his head. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Can I have dessert now?” Isaac asked hopefully. He added puppy eyes for effect.

“No. You need to finish your dinner first.” Stiles scolded gently. As usual, it made him wonder just why it was that he parented Isaac more than Kate did. Speaking of Kate, Stiles shot a quick glance her way and found her even more silent than Lydia was during the ongoing argument--and that was saying something.

Isaac, apparently hell bent on punishing Stiles for denying him an early dessert, changed tactics and loudly said, “Lydia, do you love my brother?”

The whole table suddenly fell silent. Stiles wanted to sink into the ground. Of all the things that could have come out of Isaac’s mouth, it had to be this. Lydia shifted nervously in her chair and set down her fork. 

“I just met your brother today, Isaac. That’s too soon to be in love with someone.”

“Technically,” Stiles drawled, “We met a while back, remember? You called me a twit for accidentally bumping into you? In my own house?”

Lydia, to her credit, did have the good decency to blush.

Isaac pondered all of this for a moment. “I don’t remember that. Where was I?”

Ruffling the child’s hair, Stiles smiled fondly. “You weren’t born yet, buddy.”

“Now, now let’s not dwell in the past.” Queen Amelia said, nervously glancing over at Stiles’ father as if he would call off the engagement at any moment for this slight injustice to his son. “Let’s just focus on the future.”

“Yes. Indeed.” King Alexander said heartily. “Mark, thank you again for your lovely invitation into your home this week. And cheers to Stiles and Lydia for their engagement.”

“Cheers!” everyone chorused except Stiles and Lydia.

“More wine, dear?” Queen Amelia asked her husband, her hand already on the bottle.

“Oh, no, that’s Mark’s personal wine.” Kate hurriedly said and handed another almost identical bottle to her guest. “I apologize, but it’s his favorite kind and no one is allowed to drink it.”

The talk soon turned to wedding preparations and Stiles and Lydia ignored each other for the rest of the meal.

~.~.~.~  
The rest of the week passed the same way. It wasn’t as if he and Lydia didn’t speak, but it was forced politeness that didn’t ring true. At least their parents were getting along, even though Stiles could see that the visit was tiring his father out. King Mark stayed upstairs most of the day in bed so that he could be strong enough to join them for dinner in the evenings. 

After Stiles put Isaac to bed, he and Lydia were having their usual “getting to know each other time” and tonight they were in the library. Under the watchful eye of her handmaiden, Ava, Stiles and Lydia sat stiffly beside each other on the couch, each holding a book that interested them. They were both hyper aware of the other’s presence but steadfastly ignoring each other as if it were a law. Stiles wanted to know what, exactly, Ava expected them to be doing that required such vigilance. Okay, he wasn’t stupid. He knew _exactly_ what she expected them to be doing. But Lydia, while incredibly beautiful and sexually appealing, gave off so many _don’t touch me_ vibes that Stiles hadn’t even gone there in his mind. 

Much.

Now that the idea was fully in his head, however, Stiles couldn’t help but peek over at the creamy expanse of Lydia’s chest just barely visible above the neckline of her lovely green dress, the swell of her ample breasts giving him a tantalizing glimpse. He wanted to reach out and peel the neckline of her dress down. To kiss those silky globes and see if she would let him.

Or slap him. Both prospects excited him more than they should. 

“See something you like?” Lydia looked at him pointedly and arched an eyebrow.

Stiles wasn’t even embarrassed like he should have been. He wasn’t being a gentleman at all, but something about Lydia made him crazy--made him want to push boundaries. He raised his eyes to hers and shrugged. “Maybe.” Then he casually went back to his book as if nothing had happened.

After a moment of silence he could feel Lydia watching him intently. “Your father, he’s really sick…isn’t he?”

Stiles stiffened. He didn’t really like talking about it. Talking about it made it more real. “Yeah, and we don’t know why. My mother,” And here his voice cracked embarrassingly, “Her handmaiden is our Healer. She used to live here in the palace, but after my mom died and I was old enough to take care of myself…my dad got her a cottage in the village. She runs a special tonic up here every week for my dad to take. It helps, but it’s not getting rid of whatever’s wrong with him. She’s at a loss.”

Lydia’s icy exterior softened just a little. “I’m sorry. I hope he gets better.”

For some reason, Stiles felt tears prick his eyes. “Me too.” He choked out and immediately cleared his throat. To his surprise, a small hand lightly patted his shoulder.

“Why doesn’t your stepmother do something?” Lydia asked softly, still rubbing his shoulder in small circles. 

“Do? She can’t do anything for him other than trying to get another Healer to come and see him. And believe me, we‘ve tried.”

Lydia gave him an odd look. “No, I’m talking about using her magic to heal your father. Not regular medicine.”

Now it was Stiles’ turn to look at her oddly. He turned to face her on the couch, and she mirrored his position, causing them to move closer together without realizing it. “What are you talking about?”

“Kate. Your stepmother?” Lydia said slowly, as if Stiles were a particularly slow person. “She’s a sorceress.” At Stiles’ blank expression, she shook her head in disbelief. “You really have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

“No, I really don’t. There’s no way. We would have known.” Stiles insisted, even while he felt his heart begin to race inside his chest. 

Lydia shook her head impatiently, her strawberry blonde waves tumbling around her face. “Trust me, Stiles. I have power and I can tell when other people have power too. It’s sort of a vibe or an aura they give off. And Kate? Is a sorceress. A very powerful one too, by what I’m getting from her.”

Stiles was shell shocked. “But why would she keep that a secret from us? All these years?”

Lydia hesitated and bit her lip. “If you want my opinion? People who tend to keep this kind of thing secret…are usually hiding something.” She stood up suddenly, as if realizing that she and Stiles were actually having a decent conversation and she must put a stop to it. “Good night.” Then she and Ava swiftly left the room.

Stiles sat there thinking for a long while.

~.~.~.~

When Stiles walked into his private bath later that night, he got the shock of his young life. Lydia was in his bathtub.

Naked.

In his _bathtub_.

 _Naked_.

“Oh my God.” Stiles whispered. “I’m going insane.” He struggled to close his mouth, but Lydia chose that moment to rise up on her knees, baring practically everything to his gaze. Inch after inch of delicate, pale skin on display and water sluicing down her body. He was jealous of that water. He wanted to _be_ that water. Especially the part of it that was currently streaming down between those creamy thighs.

Stiles swallowed thickly.

“Like what you see?” She said softly.

“Oh yes.” Stiles breathed. “Very much so.”

“Then come touch me.” She purred. “I want you to.”

He almost fainted. “Dear God…I’m dreaming. I have to be. You wouldn’t say this otherwise.”

She smiled at him saucily. “Of course you’re dreaming, silly. Doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to touch me. In fact, you can do anything you want to me. It‘s your dream.” Lydia lowered her eyelids and arched her back, moaning slightly. “Come touch me, Stiles.”

He drifted forward towards her. Hand outstretched and trousers too tight. She locked eyes with him the entire way, the hazel orbs refusing to release him from her spell. Suddenly he was touching warm, soft skin, slick with water and scented oils. The steam from the water seemed to surround them both as Stiles finally (finally) touched her breasts, cupping and kneading the soft flesh to his heart’s content; thumbing the nipples until they pebbled. Lydia moaned wantonly, arching her back further until Stiles almost feared for her spine, as she drew Stiles’ towards her, urging him to use his mouth.

Stiles couldn’t get close enough. He wrapped his arms around her wet body and clutched her to him, his mouth meeting hers in a desperate kiss. Lydia seemed to have the same sentiment and pulled him into the water with her. Stiles couldn’t figure out where his clothes had gone, all he knew was that one minute they were on him and the next they had disappeared. All the better for it, as he could now press completely against her without any obstacles getting in the way.

Lydia arched against him, spreading thighs that were slick with water and her wetness and Stiles groaned as he nestled right against her core. He could feel her heat against his cock and he _wanted_. He wanted so very badly. Lydia began to move now with him, rotating her hips in maddening circles. They writhed together, tongues twined, water splashing all over the floor in their passion. Stiles couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. 

“Touch me.” Lydia whispered against his mouth, breath mingling with his. “Touch me, Stiles.” 

“I am,” he whispered back fervently. 

She shook her head at him in distress and grabbed his face in her hands. He hissed in pain as her fingernails dug into his skin, ripping furrows into the tender flesh. They were suddenly longer than normal and it freaked him out. “It’s not enough. It’s never enough!” 

“Lydia, calm down. Okay? Calm down.” He grabbed for her hands and her sharp nails ( _claws?_ ) sliced into his palms, blood spilling into the water. Lydia stared at the bloody water as if hypnotized, then her eyes focused on Stiles with alarming intensity.

“I’m sorry. You are not meant to be mine.” She whispered.

Then she shoved his head underwater and tried to drown him.

Stiles suddenly came awake in his own bathtub--alone--as he accidentally slipped under the water after falling asleep. He sputtered and flailed, gasping much needed air into his lungs and looked wildly about the empty room.

“Just a dream.” He panted, clinging to the side of the tub. “What the fuck?” The dream had been so pleasurable one minute, and in the next a complete nightmare. Stiles didn’t know what to make of it. 

And what was most disturbing, was that right before Lydia had shoved him under, Stiles could have sworn that there was someone else standing in the shadows of the room. Watching them. No, that wasn’t quite right.

Watching Lydia.

~.~.~.~

Three hours later he was still restless and unable to sleep, so Stiles decided to go downstairs to the kitchens and get a snack. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lydia and it was driving him crazy. She didn’t even like him! It was stupid to even consider that their union would be anything other than a simple business arrangement. As for the mysterious voyeur, Stiles decided to just put that bit of weirdness out of his mind.

But still, the dream wouldn’t leave him.

As he turned the lights on in the spacious kitchen, he noticed a weird blue-ish flicker coming from outside one of the bay windows. Someone was outside! Stiles quickly snapped off the lights and peered through the sudden gloom at the strange light, trying to adjust his eyes quickly to the darkness around him. Where the hell were the guards? Most of his father’s own guards had been let go when he and Kate married, her explanation being that hers were more highly trained. Stiles hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now he felt uneasy.

Opening the French doors that led from the kitchen out to the interior gardens, Stiles slipped outside into the cool night air. A stiff October wind made him shiver and he briefly considered waking his father and stepmother. Maybe then she’d be able to find her errant so-called guards. Even as he was contemplating this, Stiles found his feet moving forward of his own accord, heading towards the light. As he drew closer, he noticed it spilling out of the door leading to the old woodshed. King Mark had had a new one built years ago, but the old one was where Queen Annabelle had done her painting. Stiles used to watch her create beautiful landscapes and fantasy worlds and never get bored. Her enthusiasm for her art had been one of his favorite things about his mother. His father left the old woodshed up as a tribute to his late wife, and many of her paintings still hung inside. No one but he and his father ever went there anymore.

But now, someone else was inside.

Creeping over to the door, he peered around the edge of it and heard a low murmur coming from within. The woodshed was quite large so Stiles had to actually step inside a ways to see who was there. He edged in a little bit more, bypassing one of his mom’s stools that she used to sit on while she painted. When he crept inside a few more inches, the sight that met him almost made him cry out.

Kate was kneeling on the floor, her back turned slightly from him and she was chanting something in a low voice. Candles surrounded her and a circle etched out on the floor in black soot. No, not a circle…a pentagram! Stiles felt his alarm grow as he watched her continue to chant from an old book on the floor.

_“Enslaved by the moon. Enslaved by Thee. Enslaved by the moon. Enslaved by Thee. Thrice more I ask you. Thrice more I reap. Enslaved by the moon. Enslaved by Thee.”_

Kate bobbed back and forth in a strange sort of dance, chanting louder and louder. The candle flames rose higher and a strange silvery orb appeared in thin air in front of her. Stiles couldn’t be sure, but an image appeared inside that looked like some kind of snarling beast. This was too much for him. Lydia had been right and his stepmother was some kind of dark witch. 

The irony was not lost on Stiles because he had always thought that about her with much bitter resentment, but now it gave new meaning to the words. He started to back away silently and was almost clear of the door when he stumbled over the stool he had seen on his way in. It tipped over slightly, but didn’t fall. 

But it still made a loud enough noise to distract Kate. 

“Who’s there?” She called out sharply and Stiles didn’t wait around to find out if she would catch him or not. He was always of the mentality that you run like hell and don’t look back. 

You’ll _know_ if you get caught.

Stiles raced back into the palace with lightening speed, through the kitchens, dining room and a vast number of other rooms before he could get to the main staircase. _Why is this fucking place so big?_ He thought irrationally as he flew upstairs and into his room. He locked his door and waited. And waited. After half an hour he slowly started to relax. There was nothing to be done for it anyway. 

If she had seen him, he’d find out soon enough. Now he had to figure out what to do about this information he’d learned. He didn’t want to upset his father while he was so sick. For reasons unknown to Stiles, his father genuinely loved this woman. He had a _child_ with her. Isaac was his pride and joy--after Stiles of course--and he would be devastated to find out that his second wife was off conjuring up creepy stuff in the place where his first wife used to enjoy spending time. And just what exactly was she conjuring? A demon? It looked like a beast, but he didn’t get that great of a look at it before he’d fled the scene. And for what purpose? Stiles knew it couldn’t be anything good. 

Lydia. True, they barely knew each other, and he was pretty sure his fiancé didn’t care much for him. But…she had expressed sympathy about his dad and she was the one who pointed out Kate being a sorceress in the first place. That had to mean that she cared about him a little right? He _had_ to talk to someone about this and who better than his future bride?

He settled into his bed and prepared himself for a long, sleepless night. And the worst part was he never did end up getting his snack.

~.~.~.~  
Stiles was up and dressed very early on Friday morning and he ventured downstairs to the kitchens to see if he could bug the head cook, Ella, for some food. Ella had a soft spot for him and she was practically family anyway, so he hopped up on a chair by the huge island counter and gave his best puppy eyes.

“Why are you up so early, my Lord?” Ella eyed him suspiciously as she basted honey over several fresh pastries that had just come out of the oven. “Didn’t sleep well?”

“Try at all, Ella.” Stiles moaned. “Can I have one? Pretty please with honey on top?” He batted his eyelashes at her and she caved just like he knew she would. 

“One.” She relented and placed a hot pastry in front of him. “Breakfast will be served in another hour for our guests and I can’t have you eating all the food before they get any!”

She had barely finished her lecture when Isaac wandered sleepily into the room. He climbed into a chair next to Stiles and said, “I’ll have what he’s having, Ella.”

The poor woman couldn’t refuse him either. But afterwards she immediately shooed them out of her kitchen. “Out, out, out! You two will eat everything as I make it. No more for you until breakfast.”

Laughing, Stiles glanced down at Isaac’s sticky honey covered mouth and grinned. “I need a distraction, kid. Want to come to the stables with me and I’ll teach you how to ride a horse?”

His little brother lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh yes! And swords, too?”

Stiles ruffled his curls. “And swords too, little man. Hurry up so you can get dressed.”

~.~.~.~

Isaac was laughing himself silly as he and Stiles trotted around the meadow on a thoroughbred chestnut brown mare. Since Scott still had his Windmere over at his place, Stiles decided to use one of the female horses, who were a lot more gentle, to teach Isaac how to ride. By late morning, they had both forgotten about breakfast and had stripped off their shirts due to the punishing rays of the sun.

Stiles made sure to keep a firm grip on his brother as the horse trotted to and fro and they were both enjoying themselves when Isaac shouted, “Look! It’s Princess Lydia.” He pointed a finger in the direction of the palace and waved excitedly at the figure in the distance. “Hi, Lydia!”

As she drew nearer to them, Stiles felt his heart skip a beat because the picture she presented was literally…stunning. The sun seemed to recognize her as one of its brethren and caressed her entire body with shimmering rays of light. There was just a radiance about her that Stiles couldn’t begin to explain. He found himself gaping at her like an idiot. His humiliation was further cemented when Isaac glanced back and closed his mouth for him. 

“You looked stupid.” He said, by way of explanation.

“Good morning,” Lydia said softly when she reached them. Stiles nodded pleasantly at her and dismounted first, before reaching up for Isaac.

“You look pretty.” Isaac said boldly and beamed up at her. “Stiles thinks you do too.”

“Oh my God.” Stiles moaned and covered his face. 

“Does he now?” She smirked a little and Stiles wanted to strangle Isaac. 

“Go play over there for a bit, Isaac, okay? But stay where I can see you.” As his brother ran off, Stiles felt himself blushing. “Sorry about that. Kids.”

“You weren’t at breakfast. Your dad said you were probably out here.” 

Stiles grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry you were forced to come out all this way just to spend time with me. I know our parents are really enforcing this courting thing.”

Lydia looked startled. “They didn’t force me to come out here.” She said softly, but Stiles was too busy leading the horse back into the stables. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” A slight blush blossomed on her cheeks. “You look tired.”

The previous night rushed back at him all at once and he opened his mouth to relay just what he’d seen with his stepmother, but something else came out instead:

“So…are you still mad at me? 

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “The chess game? Ring any bells?”

Lydia blushed again. “Oh. That.” She wrung her hands together nervously. “Look, I’m sorry. I overreacted and I shouldn’t have. I know that I can be…difficult. It’s just that I thought you were treating me like everyone else does. Like all I am is just a princess and helpless and ditzy. Like just because I am one means that I shouldn’t have opinions or learn how to fight or be educated in things other than having tea and sitting up straight.” She scowled. “As you can see, my mother thinks girls should be sweet and dainty and completely and utterly brain-dead.” 

Stiles held up his hands. “Hey, I hear you. I promise you that I don’t think you should be any of those things. You’re very opinionated and smart--and I like that.”

She studied him for a moment. “It doesn’t scare you off or make you feel threatened? Or possibly make you want to do stupid things like run off and slay a dragon to reassert your masculinity?” He shook his head in confusion and she sighed. “You already know you’re not my first betrothal. I had two others before--and yes, one was Elliott--and they went screaming into the hills because I dared to have an opinion about things.” Her smile was sharp with bitterness. “Elliott in particular wanted to show he was stronger than me, and he paid the price for it.” Lydia averted her eyes and stared across the field at Isaac chasing a butterfly. “I guess I just assumed you’d be the same.” She met his gaze directly now, and held it. “And for that, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Stiles replied, and they were both quiet for a moment. “So…what’s your opinion of me now?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But you’re interesting and it takes a lot to interest me these days.” As she spoke, her eyes ran hotly over the lean muscles of his bare chest. “Perhaps you should put your shirt back on, my Lord.”

His eyebrow arched. “Why? See something you like, Princess?”

“Please.” She said sweetly. “I just would hate for you to get sunstroke, that’s all. Plus, if my handmaiden finds me out here with you while you’re half naked, all hell will break loose.”

Stiles smirked and pulled his shirt back on over his head. “No, I guess we wouldn’t want that. By the way, where is dear Ava?”

Now Lydia smiled wickedly. “Ditched her. She thinks I’m resting in my room.”

Stiles burst out laughing and Lydia joined him. 

~.~.~.~

Lunch was a tense affair after the pleasant morning Stiles had shared with Lydia and Isaac. They had wandered around the meadow finding budding plants, and Lydia’s magic made the sun open the buds into gorgeous blooms right before their eyes in seconds. Isaac was beside himself with love for her at this point, and Stiles had joked that she was now stuck with him--for better or worse. 

She had shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re not the worst person I could think of to spend the rest of my life with. Not the best, but definitely not the worst.”

“Gee, thanks. That‘s awesome.” Stiles said sarcastically. “Really warms a guy’s heart.”

She had given him an impish smile and suddenly took off towards the palace entrance. “Race you back!”

“Hey, that’s cheating!” And Stiles and Isaac raced after her, laughing.

Now, freshly showered and changed, Stiles couldn’t even enjoy the delicious chilled apricot soup that Ella had prepared for their afternoon meal. The whole table seemed to be heavy with gloom. King Mark was getting worse and had gone back to his bed instead of joining them. That was the cause of most of Stiles’ anxiety, but a good portion was also due to Kate who was currently involved in a discussion about wedding flowers with Queen Amelia. Nothing specific had happened to tell him otherwise, but Stiles just had the feeling that his stepmother knew it had been him out there last night. He couldn’t explain how he knew this, but he just did. Call it intuition or whatever, but it was keeping him on edge. 

Lydia, now that they were getting along better, kept sending him and Kate odd looks, as if her own powers could sense that something was brewing. Ella sent another staff member in with a tray for the King, his ever present glass of wine sitting next to his plate. Before the woman could head upstairs, Stiles jumped up. “I’ll get that, Celeste. He was sleeping when I got in, and I want to check on him again, so I can take it up to him now.” 

“Of course, my Lord. His tonic is already mixed in with his food. Tell the King I hope he is feeling better.”

Stiles was jumpy and felt like his skin was about to crawl off and slither away to some hidden place. He felt the entire table’s eyes upon him and he knew he had to remain calm. “If you all will excuse me, I’m going to go visit with my father.”

Once he got upstairs, Stiles hurried down the hall to the King and Queen’s suite of rooms and shut the door behind him. His father was slumbering peacefully in his bed, but his skin was a sickly pale color. Stiles rest the tray carefully on the night stand and gently shook his dad. 

“Hey, Dad? Come on, you need to eat something, keep your strength up.”

“Stiles?” King Mark said weakly. “How are our guests faring?” Stiles sat him up against the pillows and helped him eat his soup. 

“Good, Dad. Don’t worry about that now. Just eat.”

When his father reached out for the goblet, Stiles hesitated for a second, then snatched the wine away at the last second. “Maybe you should lay off the wine for a while, okay? Going without out it for _one_ day won’t kill you. Maybe it combined with the tonic is keeping you from getting better.” He placed the goblet on the night stand out of his father’s reach.

A look of confusion passed over King Mark’s face as Stiles settled him back into the soft warmth of the pillows and covers. “Wine?” His father was now looking around the room as if he’d never seen it before.

Stiles made sure his dad was tucked in properly and nodded, “Yeah, Dad. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Kate keeps anyone else from drinking it.” At the mention of Kate, his father’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm and he reached out to grip Stiles’ wrist. 

“Kate…” He said weakly, the tonic in the soup already making him drowsy. “Kate…”

Stiles bit his lip worriedly. “What about Kate?” His father mumbled something unintelligible. “Dad? What about Kate?”

But his father had already fallen asleep.

“Damn it.” Stiles whispered. He kissed his father on the forehead, grabbed the tray and the wine and quietly left. In the hall, he stared at the goblet wondering what he should do with the untouched wine. He could just take it back to Ella for it to be saved for his dad for another day, but Stiles had always been curious as to how it tasted since it was strictly off limits to anyone else in the household. Shrugging, he picked up the goblet and took a sip. 

“God, this is good.” The wine was rich and hearty, with hints of oak and cherry and fermented to exquisite perfection. He wanted more. Stiles tipped the entire goblet back greedily and drained it dry. A warm feeling spread throughout him making him toasty inside. But he also felt strange, dizzy even--and Stiles was no lightweight when it came to wine and ale. It was as if he were suddenly underwater and everything was floating by him. The tray fell out of his hands without him noticing and he stood there in the hallway staring around him in wonder--even as a faint trill of alarm was uncoiling deep within his mind. 

“Stiles? Are you okay? You look ill.” 

Who was speaking to him? Everything was so fuzzy. He looked around and saw Lydia standing there a few feet away from him, concern etched into her pretty features. She looked even more beautiful through the fog clouding his mind than normal. Lydia looked uncertain if she should run to Stiles or give him space. He didn’t want space. He wanted her near him. Always.

Oh my God, he’d finally gone and done it. He had become Scott. More specifically, lovesick _eleven-year-old_ Scott who was smitten with Allison. This was a sad day for all, and the entire kingdom would probably weep.

“No, I’m not okay, Lydia, because I’ve officially become a sap.” He stumbled forward and slumped down in front of her, all his energy draining from him at once. “Plus, I think I’m dying.” She clutched at him with surprisingly strong arms and managed to prop him up against the wall so she could peer into his eyes.

“What’s the matter, Stiles? Talk to me. Do you want me to get your Healer?” Lydia was frantic and her small hands were fluttering around his body nervously as if she both wanted and didn’t want to touch him. “Kate?”

Stiles groaned. “Yes, to the Healer. No, to Kate. A big hell no to Kate, even. She’s the last person I want to see.” He struggled to sit up and Lydia tried to push him back against the wall, not understanding the seriousness of the situation.

“Stiles just rest. Tell me where your Healer is and I’ll get my dad to--”

“NO!” Stiles shouted, then winced because he was afraid they would attract unwanted attention. When no one came running up the stairs, he gripped Lydia’s arm urgently and lowered his voice. “No, okay? We have to get _out_ of here and we have to make it look completely natural so no one suspects anything is actually wrong. Okay? We have to get to Melissa, and after that, to Scott’s. I’m going to need all the help I can get and I’ll explain everything on the way. Help me up, please.” 

Lydia helped Stiles onto his feet and steadied him against her as he swayed. He rest his head against her shoulder for a moment and felt her arms come around him to rub soothing circles on his back. Lydia murmured soft nonsensical words as she petted through his hair, sensing his distress and trying to comfort him. Stiles knew it was not the time, but he couldn’t help himself. He pressed a chaste kiss to her neck and felt her gasp against him, then tighten her arms around his body; helping him to stay upright.

“You know. This isn’t the way I imagined my first time being this close to you would go.” Stiles drawled, “But I’m not complaining.”

Lydia pulled back slightly and looked at him. “You’ve imagined being…close to me?”

“Hell yes.” Stiles straightened up on his own and wobbled a little before catching himself. “And, at the risk of being too forward, I would like for us to be closer in the future, but we’ll discuss that another time. Now, you have to help me put on the best acting performance ever. Do you trust me?”

He held out his hand and she, after studying him for a long moment, took it. “Yes. I trust you, Stiles.”

“Good, so here’s the plan: we get downstairs and say that we’re going to go on an impromptu trip to Scott’s house so he and Allison can meet you before you and your parents have to leave on Sunday.”

They started heading downstairs, Lydia’s arm around him so that he wouldn’t fall. As they descended, she squeezed his side gently. “Can’t you at least tell me what this is about?”

Stiles’ face was set in a hard line. “You were right about Kate. She’s a sorceress and I snuck out last night and found her conjuring up some…beast.”

“Beast?” Lydia justifiably sounded alarmed. “Here? At your home?” 

“No,” Stiles panted with exertion as they hit the second landing on the grand staircase. “In an orb of some kind. It was like she could see where this beast was through it. I think she saw me too.”

Lydia looked at him horrified.

“Don’t know for sure, but sometimes you just get a feeling, you know?” She nodded and they hurried down the steps a bit faster. “But I do know one thing for certain.” Stiles grit out between his teeth.

“What’s that?”

“I just figured out she’s poisoning my dad.”

~.~.~.~

Minutes later they were finally downstairs; Stiles leaned against the wall heavily, sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead. Lydia took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at him, making soft hushing noises. “The poison--or whatever it is--she put in the wine is probably affecting you differently.” Lydia whispered. “Each spell is usually fine tuned to a certain individual. But you can also adjust them to affect large groups of people at once. If the wrong person or groups come into contact with the spell…there are always unpredictable results.”

They were standing right outside the dining room as lunch was still going on, but Stiles was seriously starting to doubt that he’d be able to bluff his way through an excuse that would explain he and Lydia’s absence. He could barely stand up as it is and his limbs were trembling violently. “Let’s just risk it and leave. I can’t go in there like this. One look at me and it’ll all be over.”

Lydia looked around wildly until her eyes fell on the large windows at the end of the room. Sunlight streamed through them and shimmered, making the polished wood floor shine even more. Biting her lip in concentration, she reached out one hand to the rays while the other pressed against Stiles’ chest. 

“It won’t be as powerful because it’s not direct sunlight and my magic is not as strong as my mother’s yet, but it’ll get the job done until we can get out of here.” Lydia concentrated until the filtered sunlight formed a medium sized ball of light, then she drew it slowly towards them until it was hovering right in front of Stiles’ face. He stared in wonder at her, her normally hazel eyes golden, her skin radiating a faint glow. Lydia looked at the light lovingly and petted it, the rays dancing between her fingers playfully, like a particularly enthusiastic pet. “Help him.” She whispered to the light. “He‘s ill. Give him the strength he needs right now.”

The ball of light hovered in mid-air for a moment and then just _absorbed_ into Stiles’ chest. He gasped softly as he started to feel warmth flowing through his entire body. The light seemed to ebb and flow within him, fortifying his trembling limbs and causing him to stand up a little stronger, his breathing less labored. Stiles was buzzing now, all over, energy almost like electricity crackling through him. It was the single most reinvigorating and slightly erotic experience he had ever had. “We are so doing that again.” He pushed away from the wall and grabbed Lydia’s hand. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“We need to hurry. It will only last for a little while.” 

They hurried into the dining room and Stiles cleared his throat. “I thought that since Lydia and her parents are leaving in two days that it would be nice for her to meet Scott and Allison before they go. After all, he’s my best friend and my fiancé should meet him.”

Kate was watching him like a hawk and, for a split second, he could have sworn a terrible light had come into her eyes. But then she smiled. “And you need to do this right now?”

“No time like the present.” Stiles gripped Lydia’s hand tighter as he felt a slight spasm run through his legs. They needed to wrap this up.

“Oh, Alexander, they’re holding hands.” Queen Amelia cooed. “How sweet is that?”

“Very sweet, dear.” King Alexander rolled his eyes.

“We won’t be long.” Stiles said, starting to back towards the door. “We’ll probably be back in time for dinner.”

“Can I go too?” Isaac piped up from his seat.

Stiles hesitated. He could feel Kate’s eyes on him as he weighed his answer. It was as if he was suddenly in a very high stakes game of chess and was losing. Badly. He couldn’t risk it. 

“No, little man. Not today. Another time, all right?” 

Lydia and Stiles were almost out of the room when Queen Amelia piped up, “Wait! What about protection? You know what’s been happening lately out there. It’s too dangerous. They should take one of our guards with them.”

Stiles blanched. “I can assure you that I’m quite proficient with a sword. It’s really not necessary--.”

But Kate’s eyes lit up. “That’s a _wonderful_ idea, Amelia, but don’t trouble your guards. I can send one of my own with them. I’ll summon Gerard at once.”

 _Damn it._. Stiles thought, exchanging a glance with Lydia. _We’re fucked_.

~.~.~.~

Stiles paced back and forth on the palace steps a few minutes later trying to keep the shakiness from coming back into his legs. Gerard coming with them was the last thing they needed, but he couldn’t figure out how to ditch him.

“Why did you leave Isaac?” Lydia whispered. “Shouldn’t we take him with us?”

“I didn’t want to leave him, but if I let him come, Kate would have known something was up.”

Lydia gave an unladylike snort. “I think that ship has already sailed.” She glanced around surreptitiously. “We don’t have long before that brute shows up and your legs give out. What’s the plan?”

Stiles shook his head miserably. “I…don’t have one. I didn’t see this happening at all. We need to get to Melissa’s for help and Gerard, once he sees where we’re going, he’ll report back to my stepmother. He’s in her pocket, you know.”

“Yes, I know. He and I have met.” Lydia said cryptically, her face grim. “Here he comes now.”

Stiles didn’t like the tone to her voice. A wave of protectiveness washed over him for her sake and he felt his fists clench. “When did you two meet?” She shook her head but Stiles refused to be deterred and took her hands in his. “Did he _do_ something untoward to you? Because I’ll kill him.” 

“You are in no shape to kill anyone right now. He’s almost here and I have a plan.” She leaned up to whisper the rest into his ear. “You go to the armory and get your sword and I’ll have him accompany me to the barn to ready the horses. Then you’ll meet us there.”

He was already shaking his head rapidly. “I don’t like that plan.” He hissed at her. “I don’t like that plan at _all_. I’m not leaving him alone with you!”

Lydia grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Do you trust me?”

He didn‘t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

Stiles complied, and cupped her face gently. Her hazel eyes drifted closed as he pressed his lips to hers. Once, twice…again and again until he lost count. Sweet, drugging kisses that rocked his body to the core. Stiles bit back a groan as Lydia’s tongue slipped into his mouth and he fought the urge to press her back against the stone wall. He wanted to see just what else that wicked tongue of hers was capable of and to show her just what his could do as well. But it was not the time for them to act on their attraction. They were all possibly in grave danger; his father had been compromised. Stiles knew this, but he still kissed her a few moments more. His stepmother’s treachery knew no bounds. If Kate could poison his father--the most honorable man Stiles knew--and be conjuring beasts for yet unknown reasons…then who knew what else she would do? If they all didn’t make it out on the other side, then he didn’t want to die without ever having gotten to do this right here--this moment with Lydia--now.

“Aw, how sweet.” 

They pulled apart when Gerard reached them and Lydia smiled radiantly. “Stiles, you go on ahead to the armory and Gerard and I will meet you at the stables.”

Stiles still wasn’t happy, and he didn’t like the way Gerard was looking at Lydia, but he needed his sword and they were running out of time. He headed off to the armory as fast as he could because he could feel Lydia’s sun spell starting to wear off. Soon, the poison’s effects would be debilitating to him once more. “Damn it.” He whispered. The armory was around back of the palace and he reached it without incident. Collecting his sword and sheath with the family crest, he also slid a moonstone encrusted dagger that used to belong to his mother into his boot for Lydia.

He was just rounding the corner back to the front of the palace when he stumbled. He gasped and struggled to pull himself back up. _Time’s up._ He thought, as he headed sluggishly towards the stables. He had to push onwards. Lydia was stuck with that creep. She could be in trouble or enduring all kinds of horrible things or..

Or she could be riding towards him like a bat out of hell on his father’s white horse, Thor, her long red hair flying behind her like some wild woman. Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. Nope, he wasn’t hallucinating, she was still there racing across the meadow holding, and here he squinted…holding Gerard’s _uniform_? 

What.

“Get on!” Lydia fairly shrieked at him in what Stiles believed to be an unnecessarily loud volume. “My spell won’t hold him for long.” 

But Stiles was only focused on the clothes in her hands, even as he felt his legs finally give out and he slumped to the ground. “Why do you have his clothes, Lydia? Like…all of his clothes. Why were there even clothes being removed?” 

She huffed impatiently. “So that once he’s free, he’d be naked and it would still slow him down. Now get on!” 

“I’m pretty sure you see that I’m going to need a bit of help here.” Stiles said sarcastically, still kneeling and shuddering on the ground as his muscles started to lock back up on him. “But perhaps I should remove _my_ clothes in order for you to help me.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and slid off of Thor, hurrying over to his side. “Seriously, Stiles? This is what you’re focusing on right now? The fact that I saw that idiot naked?” She helped him climb up on the horse with much difficulty, but eventually he was seated. 

“Yes!” Stiles snapped. He was being irrational and he knew it, but the thought of Lydia anywhere near that scumbag was making him crazy. Lydia rolled her eyes again, gathered up the clothes and tossed all of them into the lake. Then she swung up into the saddle in front of Stiles and grabbed the reins. Thor whinnied and started a fast trot off the palace grounds and towards the village. Stiles barely had time to hold on to Lydia’s waist as she pushed his father’s favorite horse even faster, slowly building up speed.

“He has a tiny dick okay?” She shouted back over the wind. “Do you have a tiny dick, Stiles?”

He felt his mouth drop open in shock. “I…can’t believe you just said that.”

“Why, because I’m a princess and shouldn’t use such language? _Please._ ” Lydia scoffed. “And I asked you a question.”

“No.”

“Then you have nothing to be jealous about.” They raced on in silence for a few moments more. Then: “Feel better?”

He didn’t respond out loud, but Stiles wrapped his arms around the crazy and exasperating woman in front of him even tighter…and that was answer enough.

~.~.~.~

Melissa McCall was horrified when she opened the door and saw the state Stiles was in. She had been brewing more tonic for King Mark before a loud pounding on the door had distracted her. Lydia filled her in on what was going on while she hurried around her cottage finding ingredients for an anecdote. 

“What am I doing?” Melissa said in despair. “I can’t make an anecdote for this. This is magic poisoning and will need magic to counter it. I need Deaton.” 

“Who is Deaton?” Stiles groaned as another wave of painful muscle spasms attacked his body. He lay on the couch while Lydia dabbed a wet cloth over his face, wiping the sweat beading on his brow and upper lip.

“He’s an old family friend and sorcerer that practices white magic. I asked him to visit so that we can figure out what is wrong with your father. I would have asked him here sooner, but he is a hard man to track down.” Melissa said while she rummaged through different herbs and dried ingredients on the table. “I started to suspect that something else might be wrong with your father, something magical, but…I never dreamed--.” She stood abruptly. “I’ll go find him. Deaton went into the village to buy some supplies an hour ago, but we don’t have time to waste.” 

No sooner had she spoken when a bald-headed man of medium height and caramel skin entered the cottage. He had several bags in his hands but he immediately put them down when he turned and surveyed the scene. “What happened?” He asked urgently, bypassing niceties as he approached Stiles’ prone form. 

“He’s sick.” Lydia said, upset. “He needs an anecdote right away, but Melissa said it won‘t help because it’s a spell.”

Deaton took Stiles’ hands in his and started humming quietly in concentration. After a few moments, he placed his palm on Stiles’ forehead. “An anecdote won’t help him--magical or otherwise. This spell was meant for another, with far more destructive effects I’m guessing. For this boy it is not fatal, but if the spell is not lifted soon, it will incapacitate him until he can no longer move his limbs by himself. For the person this spell is intended for, they will slowly waste away so that it appears to be natural cause of death.”

“Great. So my father will die and I’ll be paralyzed? Awesome.” Stiles muttered. 

“How do we stop it?” Lydia asked fiercely. She grabbed Stiles’ clammy hand in hers, almost defiantly clinging to him. 

“We have to stop the witch who cast the spell.”

“Stop her how?” Melissa asked, but she already looked as though she knew the answer.

“We have to kill her.” Stiles breathed out heavily, understanding what Deaton was saying. “Of course. Lydia sensed she’s very powerful. I saw her conjuring some beast the other night. If she is into dark magic, how are we supposed to go up against that and win?”

“A beast you say?” Deaton looked alarmed. “Do you remember what she was saying in the spell?”

Stiles shuddered as another round of spasms shook him. His legs were beginning to grow numb and that scared him more than anything. “I can’t remember exactly. Something about being enslaved by the moon? And…and reaping! She said something about reaping three times.”

Deaton’s face grew very grim. “This is not good. If your stepmother is enslaving a beast by the moon, then that means she’s using very dark forces to control a werewolf to do her bidding. And if she’s reaping, then that means she’s bonded herself to this beast so that when he kills, she gains the power of the damned souls.”

“Oh my God.” Melissa said faintly. “She’s _killing_ people?”

“Murder--or sacrifices, if you will--is necessary in many dark magic spells. Human blood must be shed in order for many of them to work. And this enslavement spell is one of the most dangerous ones. If a person reaps enough souls, eventually they will be virtually unstoppable. No one will be able to kill them. Your stepmother still has to kill three more people in order to achieve what she wants. I now suspect that she may be behind these murders plaguing the countryside. Now that we know what we’re getting into, we need to get there right away!” Deaton helped Stiles sit up on the couch and placed his hands on either side of Stiles’ head. He murmured something unintelligible and then repeated his actions by placing his hands over Stiles’ heart. 

“I…feel better.” Stiles whispered and Lydia squeezed his hand. “What are you doing to me?”

“A strengthening spell. The same thing this lovely young woman did to you earlier, I’m guessing, just done differently. ” Deaton smiled at Lydia. “Quite an impressive sun spell, my dear.” 

“It wasn’t at full strength.” Lydia said miserably. “I’m still too young and my powers are not as strong as my mother’s are, plus we use our abilities mostly to enrich the lands. Sun vessels are not usually a violent sort of people; we’re not used to fighting.” She seemed ashamed somehow that she didn’t do more for Stiles and it bothered him. He squeezed her hand, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“Young lady, do not belittle yourself. Stiles would already be permanently paralyzed if you hadn’t slowed the spell. Take comfort in that.” Deaton stood abruptly and grabbed some supplies. “That spell I just did should hold off the paralysis until we can stop your stepmother. It will last longer if you take it easy.”

“I can’t take it easy!” Stiles said, struggling to stand as well. “Lydia and I have to head to Scott’s. Perhaps Allison will know of some way to help defeat her aunt. We need all the help we can get right now.” He turned to Melissa and gave her a pleading look. “Please just make sure nothing happens to my father or Isaac. If things get bad, and I’m sure they will, do whatever you have to and get them out.”

Lydia spoke up. “And my parents too. If you can get my mother to listen to you, she’ll be able to help Deaton in stopping Kate. Plus, we brought our own guards on the trip over here. They’ll help you as well. The Queen has several sadistic guards that are loyal to only her. And the worst one is Gerard. Watch out for him.” 

Melissa hugged Stiles tightly. “I promise I’ll keep them safe, sweetheart. Whatever it takes.” Then she and Deaton were gone and Stiles and Lydia headed to Scott’s. As they raced along on his father’s stallion, this time Stiles holding the reins, he had a tiny bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, luck was on their side that day.

~.~.~.~

Their luck ran out when they were almost to Scott and Allison’s. One second they were galloping along steadily down the road, and the next Thor came to an abrupt halt. No matter what Stiles did to coax the animal, the stallion refused to go any further.

“What is it?” Lydia asked worriedly, knowing they were pressed for time. 

“Something is spooking him,” Stiles said, while trying to calm Thor down. “But I can’t see what it is.”

Thor was emitting a series of rapid snorts, one after the other and pawing the ground in front of him in distress. His ears were alert, pricked forward, and Stiles was scanning ahead of them for any sign of danger. Despite it being late afternoon with a good few hours of daylight left, the road they were on was shadowed intermittently due to the huge oak trees lining it. There was a particularly dense copse of trees ahead on their right, just where the road began to curve, and the shadows there were a little bit thicker than usual.

As Stiles continued to try and soothe Thor--because at this point the stallion wasn’t moving forwards or backwards--he saw one of the shadows _move_.

Red eyes blinked open and watched them predatorily.

“Holy shit.” Stiles breathed.

“What?” Lydia asked, craning to see around Stiles. “What is it?”

“A present from my stepmother.” Stiles responded, before all hell broke loose. Three things happened simultaneously:

One-- The beast in front of them crouched and lunged towards them.

Two-- Thor, squealing in fright and nostrils flared, reared back on his powerful hind legs and bolted back the way they came as if the very demons of hell were after them.

Three--Stiles jumped off the horse.

He barely had time to see a terrified Lydia grab for the reins, before his focus was centered on the creature currently bearing down on him. 

“Stiles!” He heard Lydia screaming from far away. 

“GET OUT OF HERE!” He roared and pulled his sword from his sheath. The beast was like something out of a nightmare. It was a monstrous wolf, yet not a wolf…some kind of bizarre fusion of wolf and man. 

_So this is what a werewolf looks like._ Stiles thought crazily. Thick black fur covered its entire body. Razor sharp fangs dripped saliva and its claws could rend a man in half. Blazing ruby eyes bored into his with no semblance of clarity. There was no conscious thought there, Stiles realized with horror.

The werewolf was completely feral. And it was hell bent on killing him.

He swung the sword powerfully when the werewolf reached him, but the creature snarled and dodged the blow. Stiles swung again and managed to slice the werewolf’s paw, but lost his footing in the process. He slammed down hard on his back, the breath literally knocked out of him while the beast howled in pain. It snarled angrily and tried to close its powerful jaws around Stiles’ leg, to tear his flesh from bone. He kicked out before that could happen--once, twice, straight into the beast’s snout, and rolled to his feet.

He heard someone calling his name again from a far distance. “God damn it, woman!” He yelled. “Leave! I’m trying to save your life!” The werewolf pounced on Stiles, knocking him off his feet again, and Stiles shoved his sword flat against its throat, barely keeping the snapping jaws from ripping off his face. They rolled to and fro on the muddy ground, Stiles using all his strength to stay alive, but he couldn’t hold on much longer.

Someone called his name again and he almost closed his eyes in despair. Oh, but she was infuriating sometimes. What good was his sacrifice if they were now both going to die here today? The jaws got closer and closer as Stiles felt his energy start to wane. Deaton said the spell would last longer if he didn’t exert himself. Stiles wanted to laugh suddenly. He was surprised he wasn’t paralyzed already with all the exertion he was currently doing. Stiles thought about his dad and Isaac. Of Melissa, Scott and Allison. 

Of Lydia. 

At least he would soon see his mother again. That thought comforted him in his final moments. The creature opened its jaws a little wider, lunged just that much further--its entire focus on ripping out Stiles’ throat. This time Stiles did close his eyes.

“NO!” 

Lydia suddenly lunged between them, literally _shoving_ her petite form in the space between. She screamed like a madwoman and plunged the moonstone dagger that Stiles had given her at Melissa’s straight into the beast’s belly. The werewolf howled in agony and Stiles grunted as Lydia yanked the dagger out and then sunk it back in again to the hilt. The creature swiped at Lydia with its claws and Stiles desperately tried to roll her off of him so that she would be out of harm’s way, but still _she did not leave him._

She was determined to protect Stiles to the death.

Voices were shouting around them and Stiles was confused. When did other people arrive? Lydia kept twisting the dagger as the werewolf thrashed on top of them, pinning them to the ground beneath its tremendous weight. Lydia scratched at the werewolf with her free hand, punching and tearing at its pelt like a woman possessed. Miraculously she kept her grip on the dagger. Stiles would have been impressed if he hadn’t been so fucking terrified for their lives.

“STILES!” A frantic voice shouted. “Hold on, man. Don’t you fucking die on me!”

 _Scott?_ Stiles thought incoherently. _When did Scott get here_? “Believe me, I’m trying not to, Scotty.” He muttered.

Suddenly King Christopher appeared in Stiles’ line of sight and threw a rope around the beast’s neck. It hooked around its head and tightened into a noose of sorts when he pulled. The beast howled in pain, realizing there were other threats surrounding it now, and its cry of rage echoed for miles. King Christopher yanked back hard on the rope, pulling the beast off of Lydia and Stiles and forcing it to fly backwards. Scott ran behind his father-in-law and helped pull. 

“Allison, now!” Christopher shouted.

Princess Allison was an expert archer, and she took aim now, three times in succession--each arrow landing its mark. The beast finally lay still. It wasn’t dead, Stiles could still see that it was breathing, although they were shallow breaths. Stiles groaned and Lydia immediately rolled off of him, peering down at him anxiously. She was covered in blood, her pretty gown ruined by all of the gore, but she still looked beautiful to Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Her hands raced over his body, checking him for injuries. Stiles shook his head in disbelief.

“Are you _insane_ , woman? You’re asking me if _I’m_ okay? You just took on a werewolf single handedly!”

Lydia shrugged and winced as if to say that it was no big deal. Like it was what she did every Friday when she was bored. “I was saving you.”

Scott and Allison rushed over when Stiles got to his feet and there was a happy mini reunion for a few moments. But Scott pulled out of the hug, his face grim. “We were just coming to see you. We found out about what was going on with Kate.”

“Already ahead of you there, buddy.” Stiles said wryly. “Is it that she’s absolutely insane, practices dark magic, is slowly poisoning my father to death--and by extension, me--and enslaved a werewolf to do her evil bidding?”

Everyone looked shocked for a moment.

“We didn’t know about her poisoning your father.” King Christopher said slowly, disbelief and pain written all over his face. “My sister and I didn’t always see eye to eye on many things over the years, but I still can’t believe that Kate would do this.”

“Well believe it.” Stiles snapped. “And we have to kill her. We can’t allow her to murder anymore people--especially my dad--when all he ever did was love her.”

“We will.” Allison said grimly, tears forming in her eyes. “We have no choice. My aunt has to be stopped.”

“Look!” Lydia shouted and they all whipped their heads around to stare. The werewolf was no longer a monstrous form. In its place was a young man lying naked on ground. He was covered in blood from his wounds and moving feebly. He clutched weakly at the dagger in his stomach, but didn't remove it.

"Thank...you." He whispered weakly. "Thank you for...stopping her. For…stopping me."

King Christopher pulled his silver sword from his sheath and pointed it at the man. "Explain yourself."

The young man winced. "Hurts."

"Maybe we should remove the dagger at least. It looks like it's causing the most pain." Scott said.

"NO!" The man shouted, his eyes wide with terror. "That's the only thing keeping you all alive right now. Leave them in."

Stiles understood. "You’re going to be feral and shift if we take the silver out, am I right?" The man nodded weakly, looking vulnerable. "His mind is not his own. He's going to kill as long as Kate wills him to."

King Christopher looked grim. "We need to make a decision. Leave him here or take him with us."

Scott and Lydia both wanted to leave him, while Stiles and Allison were against. Allison immediately objected. "We can't leave him here, Scott. How do we know he'll actually leave the silver in? We need to keep an eye on him until we break the bond he has with my aunt. _Then_ we can figure out what to do with him afterwards."

They couldn't exactly argue with that logic and Christopher rummaged in his saddlebags and threw the stranger some trousers. "Looks like you're coming with us. Try anything funny and we'll kill you. Understand?"

The young man nodded, his pale green eyes lingering on Lydia. She flushed and looked away, arms folded protectively over her stomach. "I understand."

"Good. Now get dressed."

~.~.~.~ 

The journey back was swift, and night was just beginning to fall when they arrived. Stiles stared at the palace in horror. An unearthly red light seemed to encompass it making the whole place look downright demonic, and flames were already coming from the north tower. Ominous clouds hovered overhead, lightning crackling within.

“Oh thank God!” They all turned to see Melissa running towards them from the stables. King Alexander was not far behind her, but it was clear that his leg was badly injured. Melissa flew up to Scott and embraced her son, Allison and Stiles while Lydia threw herself into her father’s arms. Melissa was frazzled and flushed. “I’m so glad you guys are back. I don’t know how much longer they can hold on in there.”

Lydia looked to her dad frantically. “Dad, you’re hurt! What about Mom?”

“I’ll live. But your mother’s inside.” King Alexander said grimly. “She’s helping Deaton. I don’t know what good it will do though. The Queen is too powerful. We need to get in there, get them and escape.”

“But then my dad will die!” Stiles shouted. At this point, he didn’t even care about his own fate. All he wanted was for his dad and his little brother to be safe. He grabbed hold of Melissa. “Did you--?”

“Yes, they’re fine. They’re safe. King Alexander helped me get your father, Isaac and the staff out in time while Deaton and Amelia dealt with Kate. They’re both resting in the barn and the staff headed to the village to warn your father’s people. They’re trying to bring back reinforcements, but I don’t know if they’ll come.” Melissa babbled.

“They’ll come.” Stiles said resolutely. “They’re loyal to my father…they’ll come.”

Christopher squared his shoulders. “I’m going in. It’s time my sister and I had a little chat.” He took off towards the palace on horseback, the wounded stranger barely managing to hang on behind him.

Stiles looked at Melissa and Alexander. “Stay hidden in the stables. If we don’t come back in an hour, get the hell out of here.” She nodded and was gone. 

King Alexander wrapped an arm around Lydia. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you inside. You’re covered in blood…are you hurt? Melissa can take a look at you.” But Lydia gently pulled away. 

“No, Daddy. I’m going with Stiles. And you can’t change my mind.” The King looked like he was going to argue, but she set her face stubbornly and he sighed.

“You and your mother come back to me alive, you hear?” Then he limped back to the stables. 

Stiles nodded resolutely to the others. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m with you, man.” Scott said, as they headed towards the palace. “Werewolves and witches. We can take them, right?”

“At least it’s not a dragon.” Stiles muttered darkly and Scott’s nervous laughter sounded throughout the night air.

~.~.~.~

The scene that met Stiles and his friends was so horrific that for a moment he _was_ paralyzed. Kate was standing in the grand foyer between Deaton and Queen Amelia, shooting orbs of light at both of them, which they deflected. Wind was swirling around all three as they battled it out. Kate kept conjuring up shadowy minions to attack Deaton and Amelia, distracting them over and over long enough for their counter spells to become weak.

King Christopher had flung the werewolf to the side and was currently trying to breach the weird bubble that all three spell casters had locked themselves into, to no avail. He pounded at the barrier. “KATE! Stop this madness at once! Is this how you want to honor our mother? Do you think she won’t be rolling in her grave knowing this is what you’ve become?”

“Has my big brother come to lecture me once more?“ Kate shrieked with laughter, her beautiful face lit up with a demented grin as she sent a particularly powerful spell towards Deaton. Her beauty was hard to see in this moment, Stiles thought, all of it tainted now by this shrieking, cackling…creature she was becoming. It was terrifying to behold.

“Always mommy’s little favorite.” She hissed. “And then when she got _murdered_ did you do anything? NO! You just sat by like the coward you are, Christopher! Dad and I had to avenge her death. _We_ had the vision and you dare to judge us?” 

“Dad became insane after her death!” Christopher shouted. “And you followed right in his footsteps. You can’t kill every creature that exists just because one killed our mother! Life doesn’t work that way. If mom could see you now she would be _ashamed!_ ”

Kate looked murderous and sent a fiery blast straight through the barrier towards him and Christopher went flying through the air. She sent another and another and flames erupted around his body. 

“Dad!” Allison shouted and raced towards his prone figure. Scott followed on her heels. “Stop it,” She shrieked at Kate. “You’re killing him!”

Deaton took the chance now that Kate was distracted, and began to chant. “By the powers, I bind thee. By the goddesses, I bind thee…”

Kate whirled around, eyes wild, clenched her hand into a tight fist and Deaton’s voice got choked off in mid-chant. “Bite your _tongue,_ Warlock.” She hissed, her eyes now glowing as Deaton struggled to breathe. “What’s the matter?” She croaked, her voice becoming lower and more distorted. “Can’t speak?”

Stiles surveyed the situation quickly, trying to figure out what to do. They were losing-- badly--and needed _something_ to turn the tide in their favor. Queen Amelia was currently conjuring water to put out the fire around King Christopher, but that, unfortunately, distracted her from trying to immobilize Kate. Meanwhile Kate was still choking Deaton slowly to death. Allison and Scott were helping by frantically beating at the flames with one of the rugs. Lydia was limping over to help her mother, and the werewolf was still standing where Christopher had left him.

Except he wasn’t.

Stiles looked around wildly and saw the stranger heading for Lydia at unnatural speed. Stiles shouted a warning, and raced after him. _Oh my God, he’s trying to kill Lydia._

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. 

Just before Lydia reached the others, Gerard, looking a little worse for wear, stepped out from the shadows and threw a dagger right at her head. To Stiles’ utter shock, the werewolf leaped in front of her and the blade embedded in his chest. Lydia screamed and doubled over in surprise, while the werewolf snarled viciously, his body already riddled with weapons, and he crouched in front of her. 

_He’s protecting her._

At the exact same time, Kate howled in pain and Stiles whirled to see her clutch her own chest, blood appearing from some seemingly inflicted wound. Deaton sagged to the floor, gasping for air as Kate shrieked in agony. 

A suspicion began to form in his mind. 

“Amelia!” Stiles shouted over the chaos. “Did Kate get injured before while you guys were fighting? Say…an hour or so ago? Did she suddenly have wounds that you guys didn’t give her?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because I have an idea!” Stiles shouted back and he unsheathed his sword. He could feel the tell tale signs of the spell affecting his limbs again and knew that this was going to be his only shot. He had to make it count. “Amelia, Deaton’s down. When I give you the signal, take her out!”

Stiles started racing across the room towards Gerard and the werewolf who were locked in battle. Lydia was sobbing. Allison and Scott managed to drag Christopher away from the remaining flames and were tending to him. He wasn’t moving and Stiles hoped he wasn’t dead. Gerard now had his burly hands around the werewolf’s throat and the stranger, in turn, was punching the guard in his kidneys. Both of them were properly distracted.

That’s when he struck.

Stiles’ momentum across the room had him almost gaining too much speed. But speed was good. Speed would give him the extra force that he needed to do this. _Please let me be right about this._

 _Please._

He slid the last few remaining yards on his knees and watched as the werewolf slammed Gerard up against the wall. Perfect.

Stiles drew his sword up at the right moment and _drove it through_ both of their bellies--up to the hilt--and twisted. The werewolf roared in pain, writhing against Stiles. He was a supernatural creature and it would take a lot to kill him. But Gerard was human and was already dying. Stiles heard an answering howl of pain from Kate and knew that his hunch had been right.

 _She bonded herself to him, not the other way around._ Stiles thought wildly. _If he gets hurt, then she gets hurt._

“Amelia, NOW!” Stiles screamed as he kept a tight grip on the sword. The stranger bucked against him but Stiles couldn’t afford to let Kate get the upper hand again. His stepmother was writhing on the floor and bleeding profusely from her wounds. “Kill her now!”

Queen Amelia’s eyes started glowing bright like the sun and her skin turned molten. Stiles was both mesmerized and scared. Lydia would become this one day. She would be this powerful--able to conjure any kind of magic, not just from the sun. Amelia, meanwhile, had trapped Kate in a circle of light and started to intone with what sounded like hundreds of voices: “By the goddesses, I invoke the power of my ancestors to banish thee for eternity. By the goddesses, I invoke the power of my ancestors….” Deaton was able to speak by this point and he stood up and began chanting his binding spell as well. Kate was screaming as the light enveloped her and seemed to absorb within her. But there was too much darkness--too much evil--inside of her for it and the light to co-exist. She started coming apart slowly, little fissures and cracks appearing on her skin. The room shook as a howling wind vortex opened up behind her and started slowly sucking her in. 

Kate clawed at the marble floor desperately, her long nails ripping off and her fingers literally starting to crumble into dust. “Christopher, please… _please!_ Help me. I’m sorry for everything!” 

King Christopher closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at her. When Kate realized no help was coming from her brother, she tried to appeal to Allison. “Allison, honey? Please…I was your favorite aunt. You still love me, don’t you? Don’t you? _HELP MEEEEEE!”_ Kate disappeared into the vortex and it snapped shut with a loud pop. Stiles saw that Allison had turned away as well and buried her head in Scott’s chest. Both she and her father were weeping.

It was finally over.

Stiles barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief when Amelia screamed. “Lydia!”

Lydia had collapsed.

~.~.~.~

When Lydia finally opened her eyes, it was four days later and Stiles had barely left her bedside during all that time. Her hazel eyes immediately focused on his face and she smiled softly. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

She kept smiling for a moment before her eyes widened in alarm. “Wait a minute, where is everyone? Is everybody okay?” She struggled to sit up in bed and winced, clutching at her stomach. “Ow, what happened to me?”

“You got stabbed.. Among other things.” Stiles said softly, studying her to see if she remembered anything, but confusion was all that was present on her face. “You collapsed and scared your mother and I half to death.”

“Is she okay? What about my dad? Or yours? What happened?” She asked impatiently and Stiles helped her sit up before she tore her bandages.

“The quick version?” When she nodded, he continued. “Kate and Christopher’s mother was murdered by a werewolf. It happened when they were little. Their father pretty much went insane with grief, and started hunting them all down. It didn’t matter if they were innocent or not, he wanted them all dead.”

“So…he made a binding pact with The Reyes Family. They’re apparently a very bloodthirsty clan and they, too, loved to hunt. But their interests didn’t just lie with werewolves. It was anything that wasn’t completely human. They relished the kill. So, after their father made this pact, he also took up another one of the Reyes Family’s habits--practicing dark magic. He wanted vengeance upon anything that reminded him of how his wife had been ripped away from him. And his prejudices started to infect Kate, who completely adored her father.”

“But not King Christopher?” Lydia asked.

“Christopher wasn’t a person who was easily manipulated. He preferred to honor their late mother’s memory the normal way, but he never imagined just what lengths his father and Kate would go just to cope. Their father eventually died during a spell that went wrong. Kate decided to carry on his bad habits. So, when she and the Reyes Family found out about this clan of werewolves, they decided to burn their entire castle down to the ground. With them all in it. Even though they had never hurt anyone.” Stiles grimaced. “Lydia…there were children in there.”

“Oh that’s horrible.” Lydia murmured.

Stiles nodded. “They waited until the full moon when all the werewolves would be restrained, and then they torched the place. But one of them escaped by the name of Derek Hale. He tried to save his family, but the flames had completely engulfed the castle. He’s the werewolf that my stepmother sent to attack us. Kate realized Derek had gotten away, and was injured, and she kept this a secret from the Reyes clan. Because she had gotten an even more brilliant idea.”

“Since the title of king or queen goes to the next eldest child, and both of their parents were now dead, Christopher had taken that mantle. Kate resented this because she wanted power, so she set about getting it another way. She bound herself to Derek and caused him, this poor man who just lost his entire family, to stay in werewolf form--to stay feral--for years! She used him to kill to get what she wanted and for her to reap the souls of those he murdered against his will. The more souls she reaped, the stronger she would become. This started years and years of senseless killings.”

“Kate met my dad around this time. At the Christmas festivities. The night I bumped into you, remember? Deaton says she must have realized that my single father was an excellent chance at her receiving the title of queen. All it took was a little enchantment spell and my father was completely hooked. He proposed to her a couple of days after. Now I know why.”

Lydia shook her head in horror. “All these years she’s been casting a _spell_ on your dad? What a horrible woman.”

“And none of us realized it.” Stiles said bitterly. “I always knew I didn’t like her. I just wished I’d realized what was going on sooner. Forced my dad to listen to me more.” He shook his head. “Anyway, marrying my dad was her in, but she had to keep it, right? So she continued to spell him and whenever it would wear off--because it always would--she’d enchant him again. This started to frustrate her because her powers were not as strong as she’d like. So while she originally started out just having Derek kill random drifters traveling in the woods, she knew that wasn’t enough.”

“She needed to kill more people to get stronger, faster. Right?”

He nodded again. “Right. She needed just three more murders before she was invincible. I almost made one more for her the other day. Lucky you jumped in front of me and took him down.” 

Lydia was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, lucky.”

Stiles watched her look anywhere in the room but at him. “Right. So during the final battle, I realized that when you stabbed Derek and Allison shot him with the arrows, apparently Kate became injured too. And my theory was further given proof when Gerard tried to kill you that night and Derek jumped in front of you and took the blade instead.” He rose from the chair at her bedside and started pacing back and forth. “I wondered just _why_ he was protecting you, but I didn’t have time to worry about that then. I just knew we had to stop Kate. So I took a chance and I drove my sword straight into him and Gerard and it was as if I was driving my sword into Kate as well.” 

“That was where my mother and Deaton’s binding spells came in. I remember.” Lydia whispered. He could tell by the look on her face that she already knew that he knew.

“But…when I stabbed Derek with my sword,” Stiles choked out, “I didn’t realize I had stabbed you too.”

Lydia’s face suddenly crumpled and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “So…there’s no hope then?”

Stiles shook his head and felt tears prick at his eyes as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you had been bitten?”

“It wasn’t the time! We had to get back to stop your stepmother.” She cried. “I had come back to save you because Derek was literally out of his mind. He was going to kill you!” 

“I’D RATHER HE DID!” Stiles roared. “I’d rather know that I was dead and that you were safe, Lydia! You should never have come back.” He slumped down on the bed and yanked viciously at his hair. “If I had known there was a connection…that he had turned you…I would never have stabbed him that night. Lydia, I almost _killed_ you.”

Lydia painfully crawled across the duvet and curled up against him. “It’s not your fault. I know you wouldn’t have. I know you didn’t mean it, Stiles.” She kissed his cheeks and nuzzled against him but Stiles couldn’t shake the guilt.

“There’s more.”

She froze. “What else can there possibly be?”

“When Derek bit you and…turned you…it didn’t just take away part of your humanity.” He didn’t know how to tell her without destroying her entire world. “It took away your magic.”

Her lips wobbled. “My…magic’s gone?” She shook her head miserably. “No. Stiles please don’t tell me that. _Please.”_

“Deaton said that you can’t be both. It’s considered an anomaly for a person to exist in both the sun and moon realms. It upsets the entire balance of the universe. Once you were turned, the sun gods rejected you immediately. Your mother implored with them on your behalf, but their decision was final. It was either that…or death. Lydia, I‘m so sorry.”

Lydia wept openly now and Stiles just gathered her in his arms. He didn’t know what else to do. Her entire world had just been taken away from her. Her future and her identity:

All gone.

And no matter what she said, he knew he was to blame.

 

EPILOGUE

Stiles headed down into the dungeons after Lydia had cried herself to sleep. The air was stale, almost musty with disuse and Stiles wished he didn’t have to come down here. His father was still recovering and, although he was doing well, he was in no condition to handle a situation of this nature. At least not yet.

The prisoner stared at him silently when Stiles arrived, and he opened the meal slot and pushed a full tray laden with food into the steel cage. His captive didn’t even glance at his meal. He seemed to be waiting for Stiles to speak.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles dared to ask eventually. “Deaton patched you up pretty good.”

Derek shrugged. “You mean after you tried to kill me? I heal fast.”

“You know what I was trying to do. I was trying to stop Kate.”

“No, I get it. And I wanted that bitch dead, so however you had to do it, I’m fine with it.” Derek grit out. “She killed my entire family and then enslaved me for _years_. Do you know how many people she made me kill? And I couldn’t do a thing to stop her!” Derek laughed bitterly. “So believe me, _my Lord_ , I’m not holding any grudges. Even if you had killed me, it doesn’t matter. I’m already dead.”

An uncomfortable silence fell and Stiles stared at Derek. On one hand he felt sorry for the guy. He was what? Early twenties? His entire family ripped from him? Who wouldn’t feel compassion for someone who has suffered so much? But another part resented Derek because he was causing Lydia to suffer the same curse he suffered every month.

Almost as if he could tell what Stiles was thinking, Derek shifted against his cot in order to get more comfortable. The way he moved was almost…erotic, sensual, and it made Stiles look away. Derek finally stretched out lean like a cat, pale green eyes steady and unblinking. “How’s Lydia doing?”

“Don’t talk about her.” Stiles snapped. “Don’t even say her name.”

Derek looked almost…hurt. “I already apologized for what happened, okay? I’m sorry, I truly am. But we can’t change anything now and you know it.”

Stiles bristled. “What you said the other day. You’re _wrong._ ”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Lydia is my fiancé and we are getting married in six months.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said again, his eyes boring into Stiles with a strange intensity. “But I bit her and she’s mine now. She’s _pack._ That’s just the way this works.

“Fuck you.” Stiles snarled and turned to leave. 

Derek’s eyes tracked him the entire way. “She’s going to come to me whether you want her to or not. Her body will know to find its mate. You can’t stop it from happening.”

“I’ll leave you down here to rot first.”

“You won’t.” Derek said softly. “You’ll keep coming back to me as well because you’re going to want to know if there’s a way to save her.”  
“And is there?” Stiles demanded.

A strange smile crossed Derek’s lips. “No.”

“We’ll see.” Stiles glared, then walked out. “Enjoy living out your last days in here alone.”

The dungeon door slamming shut behind him seemed very final.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem, please don't kill me. I felt that this particular part of the story should end here. The first part where they dealt with the issue of Kate was resolved and now, a new problem has come up. While I do want to continue this in a sequel, I have no plans to do so at this time.


End file.
